Review: Phil Lesh and Friends, Central Park SummerStage, 9/16/2015

(Originally published on Grateful Music)

 
No venue in Manhattan is quite like Central Park SummerStage at Rumsey Playfield. Centered in the bucolic and historic park, the surroundings themselves are worth the venture alone, yet when a surviving member of the Grateful Dead is playing, the scenery serves merely as a gateway to the main event. With a capacity of roughly 5000 people, SummerStage was packed to the rafters on Wednesday night, yet due to its relatively small size the venue provides an intimate environment, often not seen at many outdoor concert grounds. So strolling through the park prior to the show, I found myself drawn to the nearby rocks where folks regularly congregate before events. Meeting old friends and new, the aura outside was terrific, mellow, and anticipatory for the night to come.

And expectations were wholeheartedly met as Phil Lesh and his current company took the stage and Tony Leone belted out the familiar drumbeat signaling the Samson and Delilah at hand. If folks took this as evidence of a show heading in the direction of late seventies up-tempo Dead, they, as I, were markedly mistaken, as the band forayed into the longtime Jerry staple, Catfish John. The soulful tune allowed ample time for guitarists Eric Krasno, and Neal Casal to open up and cut deep. The interplay between the two lead axemen remained to be a strong point all night long, accentuated by the versatile keysmanship of the latest Black Crowes keyboardist, Adam MacDougall.

As the music moved forward, it was evident that we were in for a blues heavy show with back to back Pig Pen tunes, Hard to Handle, and Easy Wind. As MacDougall, Casal, and Leone are all Chris Robinson collaborators of past and present, a bluesy element emblematic of the Crowes emanated through the players, and created a unique sound relative to past Phil & Friends incarnations. Robinson delved into his roll as lead vocalist with ease and swagger, and at times seemed to be channeling the late great Ron McKernan, not only with voice, but also through a gritty harmonica solo in the midst of Easy Wind. As set one came to a close with Big River, the band presented us with a fresh take, and I found myself reaching a transcendent state for the first time in the evening.

The fact that Phil’s still bringing us full length shows of stellar live music well into his seventies is a blessing and a miracle. For that, I can’t blame him in the least for the extended set breaks that have become commonplace at his shows. I know many folks his age that are long in bed and asleep while he’s raging onward night after night. So while the lengthy intermission allowed Phil and company to reenergize, it gave us heads ample time for bathroom breaks, beer runs, and mingling with our friends and family. As the sun went down on the Park, and the lights brightened on the stage, we all dug in for what was to be a smoking second set.

The He’s Gone opener was met with rip-roaring enthusiasm from the audience, as the song has taken up special meaning since the passing of Jerry Garcia. At this juncture it occurred to me we haven’t heard much from Phil in respect to fronting vocals. While many deadheads have taken umbrage with him appropriating a lead on certain songs, there are a few he has adopted and truly made his own in the post-Jerry years. And as clear as the summer’s sky, his voice shined through in singing Saint Stephen and Franklin’s Tower. With the night winding down, the double encore opened with the recognizable riff of Mr. Charlie, a fitting choice with Robinson’s ability to conjure the essence of Pig Pen. Each band member took a musical bow with respective solos, and in capping it all off, the ensemble left us with a sentimental U.S. Blues that evoked nostalgia of the epic summertime “come and gone.”

All in all this was a well-executed show, with a handful of highs, and some middle of the road moments. For many of the Northeast deadheads in attendance, this was their first opportunity to see Phil live and in the flesh in this fiftieth year of Grateful Dead (or at least since before Fare Thee Well), and that vibe waved wide and high as we danced and sang the night away to our favorite tunes. As a New Yorker, I consider myself to be among the fortunate since Lesh retired from touring, as I’m still able to get my Phil fix fairly frequently. As he rides off into his twilight years, I imagine Phil will venture less commonly from his home at Terrapin Crossroads. So with a run of shows coming up at the Capitol Theater in Portchester, NY at the end of October, I’d encourage all who can make it to catch Phil and his friends as they round out this epic year in Grateful Dead history.

Words: Russell S. Glowatz

Crosseyed & Painless: Phish 3.1

(Originally published on Grateful Music

 Russell’s Round Room

“One good thing about [Phish], when it hits you feel no pain.” And we’ve all been crosseyed and painless this summer as our favorite band was hitting it nightly. Spectator to unarguably the greatest tour of 3.0, and likely the best run of shows since the 1990’s, I couldn’t be more elated for our community as a whole, especially us youngins in the bunch. No more can that handful of apathetic old heads trample on our good time with the tired old adage that “it just ain’t the same.” While Phish 2015 is far from the band with the same moniker from two decades ago, they are finally reaching the same summits again, and old and new, contemporary fans have laid witness to all their glory. And to understand how I personally feel about this latest peak from our favorite ensemble, lets head back for a moment to the lowliest point in Phishtory.

If Phish was Poster Nutbag, I jumped on the phan bandwagon right before he kicked the bucket. My journey to Phish was a tedious one that began in the summer of 2004 with a decision made by my group of teenage friends to head up to Coventry, Vermont for what was then to be their last music festival. At the time I only had dabbled in some of the band’s more well known tunes, and my only notion of what a Phish festival or show was like came from watching Bittersweet Motel. While the rest of the seasoned Phish community was already mourning the loss of their favorite spiritual/therapeutic/musical outlet, my friends and I set out upon an epic, but arduous journey that marked the very beginning of my true insertion into this wonderful jam band community.

While I now understand how weird, pensive, and not so serene the vibe was at Coventry, at the time I thought I was at a run of the mill Phish festival. I was in heaven. Ankle deep muddy heaven. I even thought the mud was a normal occurrence. It rained! Of course there’s gonna be mud so deep one can’t even take care of his shoes. I was a newb. And as I walked into the venue barefoot, hundreds of phans busted through a fence from their several mile trek to the fest. I met a head that had his chest ripped open after he scaled a waterfall and failed while hiking into the campgrounds. He still got to the show. I knew this wasn’t quite the status quo at the time, but what struck me was the dedication of these phans, making it to their last hurrah hell or high water. When the music started, that dedication was unfounded, as Trey rambled on, and the rest of the band attempted to carry his addled self. And while the weekend was a musical and logistical bust, I did pick up something from Coventry. A need to understand where this fanatical nature came from. So over the course of the next few years, I delved deep into the Phish catalogue, caught the boys solo when I could. One particular Trey Anastasio & 70 Volt Parade show at Jones Beach, on the 60th anniversary of the Hiroshima bombing felt like a personal apology for the atomic blast that was Coventry. After that show, fishing further, finding all those gems in the band’s catalogue that veterans so energetically talked about, I held out hope for a Phish reunion. Then my and thousands of others’ prayers were answered with the Mothership shows in March of 2009. While that run left much for wanting, our band was back together, and I was experiencing present day good and genuine Phish performances for the first time in my existence. With both the Dead and Phish setting out for their first full-length tours in five years, 2009 made for a largely legendary year of music.

Fast forward to 2015. Phish has been out on the road again for seven years running. While during the last lucky seven heavy rotations around the sun we’ve witnessed many highs, a few lows, and a lot of middle of the road shows, we are buzzing off a tour that exceeded all of our wildest dreams. Even us relative newbies’ never expected harmonious heights synonymous with the mid-nineties. We never envisaged musical mastery exceeding all of 2.0 and 3.0 combined, yet here we are. A collection of shows that rivals most groupings in the last two decades. Incredible. Speechless. This is why we keep coming back for more. And to cork it off, Sunday night’s THANK YOU encore at Dick’s placed a juicy cherry atop all that’s transpired this summer.

For the first time in this 3.0’ers life, I feel like I’ve experienced all of what Phish has to offer. Upward and onward! 2015 ain’t over yet. Rumor has it we have an MSG New Years run in our future, followed by 2016 shows that our Mexican Cousins will have a chance to jump on. Then the rumored US winter tour. Born again, rejuvenated, whatever you want to call it…the boys are hitting on all cylinders and magic is in the air. Nothing currently suggests that it won’t continue into the winter and New Year. So save your pennies, recharge on this break, for the future is bright, and time’s got nothing on Phish. Mid-life they may be, but they look like a bunch of giddy teenagers on stage, and their enthusiasm is widely reflected in the music they’re producing. And as the music plays the band, the band plays us. Thank you Trey, Page, Mike, Jon, CK5, and the crew that brought it all back home for each and every one of us on this tour. Until next time, united we stand.

Words: Russell S. Glowatz